Long ago there was a fairy tale palace. Very grand in size. Everywhere one looked– velvet, gold and bronze. Mirrored walls, crystal chandeliers and thick carpets. Stairways wide enough to hold six abreast. Sweeping in a curve, they rose up toward a domed ceiling with a glass skylight.
A princess comes down the stairs. Regal, beautiful, bedecked in glimmering jewels, wearing her best dress and Sunday shoes. Her subjects bow.
"Your Royal Highness," they murmur as she passes.
"Out of my way, peasants," she says, moving past them towards the palace doors.
"Come on, come on," says a page wearing blue pants and a jacket with gold braid. He gruffly hurries the princess outside and ushers in those waiting for the next scheduled movie.
the walk home–
squinting in the low sunlight
she scuffs her shoes
Presence, winter 2011